Sofia L.

Photography by Hannah Facenda

If you’re reading this, it’s okay to feel. 

My emotionality has always been a double-edged sword; it helps me empathize with others, but sometimes it brings me down and pushes people away. For a while, I had only looked at the negative side of it, which made the way I handled my emotions an incessant source of insecurity.  

Since I was young, it has always been challenging for me to control my emotions; I always expressed them effusively. Because of this, everyone called me sensitive. I thought it was such a derogatory word; I thought it insinuated that I was immature, dramatic, and weak; I thought I was being portrayed as something I was not. 

Breathe in and out, my parents said. 

Turn that frown upside-down, my teachers said. 

Don’t let the little stuff get you down, the movies said. 

It’s not a big deal, my peers said.

Yet, I couldn’t grasp those words; they left my mind as effortlessly as my tears left my eyes.

I couldn't control the torrent of emotions because the torrent controlled me. My sensitivity became an insecurity in and of itself. The fact that I let my emotions control me and affect my relationships was hard to grapple with. I felt constantly weak.

By the end of high school, I had developed a mask that I used as a dam to stop the flood. It seemed to be an effective way to prevent any damage I perceived my emotions to cause. This mask became a crutch to get me through the tough days of feeling inadequate – days of friend quarrels, body image issues, boy drama, bad grades – you name it. However, at the same time, this mask of neutrality made it hard to show my genuine happiness. 

By the time I got home after a day of stifling my emotions, all I could do was go to my room, shut the door, and rip the mask off. The bottled-up emotions built up to the point where it hurt so bad once I let it all out. At the end of the day, the mask’s efficacy was a facade. I thought it was a way to control my emotions, but there were mental repercussions to it.

Over time, through experience, therapy, and self-growth, I’ve learned that it’s not a matter of controlling my emotions, but instead channeling them. And I’ve since found ways to channel my emotions healthily through writing and song.

I had taken a break from writing for a bit, but it has always been my escape. My thoughts, hopes, and wishes – everything within my mind – are one with my pen; as its ink oozes out, so do traces of myself.

Along with that comes the power of song. Whether it's listening to songs I heavily relate to and analyzing their lyrics, or sitting at the piano and belting out my heart to those songs, music has always been a form of therapy for me, and thus another way to channel my emotions.

It took many bumps to reach the point where I am now: accepting that my emotions are simply what make me who I am. I just had to figure out that it’s not about controlling them or masking them; it’s about learning to work with them.

With college, a whole new array of emotions emerges: homesickness, nostalgia, longing, and confusion. Although unfamiliar and daunting, I found ways to navigate and channel these emotions into written poems, curated playlists, and singing.

I’ve learned that emotions are a beautiful thing, even when they seem to get ugly. We, as humans, are blessed to have the ability to feel, to love, to cry, to laugh, to care, and to express. So I’m here to tell you, don’t look at your emotions as a ruthless storm or tyrant. Look at them as:

A current: something you can learn to swim with rather than against. 

A muse: something that feeds your creativity, growth, and expression.

A companion: something that’s always there, walking beside you.

You’ll learn to appreciate them, even if it takes a bit of work to channel them in the right direction for yourself. 

I have come to realize that sensitivity is not an unfavorable trait at all; it’s a characteristic that enables me to understand myself and to recognize and sympathize with others’ emotions; it allows me to be me.

If you’re reading this, take advantage of your ability to feel, and learn to see it as a strength and not a weakness. The capability to express yourself is a blessing, not a curse, and it’s okay – more than okay – to feel. 

Sofia L., Boston College

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